


Blast from the Past, Return to Camelot

by Elke Tanzer (elke_tanzer)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Episode Related, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Meridian Related, Silly, fixit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-03-20
Updated: 2003-03-20
Packaged: 2017-10-02 23:51:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elke_tanzer/pseuds/Elke%20Tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ultimate fixit for any season you want fixed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blast from the Past, Return to Camelot

**Author's Note:**

> At the time I wrote this, I had not yet seen Meridian, but I had heard vaguely the plotline. If you don't want to read anything that might spoil you for that episode, don't read this fic.
> 
> If you don't mind brief vague references to what an ascension looks like, or why someone might want to do that, by all means, keep reading!
> 
> Set anytime in or after season 6, and anytime a few years before. Just read it, you'll figure it out. And please don't hurt me...

Jack awoke with a start, muscles cramped with tension and the covers damp with sweat. God, he thought to himself, when was he going to start sleeping well? Would he ever? Dammit..

He'd tried everything, even meds, but nothing gave him the rest he needed. Tossing and turning every night, or being unable to sleep at all, he'd spent some nights just staring at the dark ceiling, rehashing could'ves, would'ves and should'ves.

The past few years had given him a lot of those.

It had been one thing after another. Each crisis had been more dangerous and potentially disastrous as the last, ever since he'd first heard about the Stargate.

Faces stared at him from the past, friends and enemies fading into one another, good men and women he'd let down becoming nothing but insubstantial hands clutching at him in his dreams. Why had they, why had he, made the choices that had lead to this grey dawn?

So many things had gone wrong. So many innocent lives had been lost. So many friends had been hurt... and so many relationships had turned bitter and distant. What could he have done differently? Surely there'd been some time that all had been going OK...

Jack scrubbed his fingers through his hair, then let out a long sigh.

He tossed the pillow away in frustration, not caring where it landed. It wasn't its fault he'd half wrestled it over his face in his sleep, then awakened to thoughts of suffocation. He took a few deep breaths, thinking that maybe soon the birds would wake up and bring some cheer to the morning... but then froze.

Something wasn't right.

The sound of water running through the pipes... had he left a faucet on all night?

Gently sliding out from beneath the covers, he padded softly to the bathroom door. His ears told him that it wasn't the faucet, it was the shower. The water wasn't simply pounding on the tub, either, it was striking something softer... why would someone be in his shower, and how the hell had they gotten into his house?

His knuckles popped as he made a fist with his right hand, opening the door with his left. A warm gust of air brushed past him as he stepped into the bathroom, peering through the steamed up shower door. Rivulets of water allowed brief glimpses through the fogged glass, but the water must have been pretty hot, because the entire bathroom seemed steamed up.

Jack stepped tentatively forward, reaching out to the door handle. His lungs didn't quite know what to do with the warm, wet air. He took one breath to steady himself, then opened the door.

The naked man within jumped a little at the unexpected noise behind him, then turned, a few bits of him still covered in suds.

"Good morning."

This. Was. Not. Possible.

No way. No how. Huh-uh.

He couldn't be standing there, smiling before calmly rinsing the last soap off...

No way in hell. Or anywhere else.

"Jack? Jack, you're letting all the steam out."

This man could not be here. He was dead, had been for a few years now. Well, not exactly dead, but that body shouldn't be standing there, skin glistening under the pounding hot water...

Jack shook his head, trying to clear it.

"Jack, are you all right?"

Finally, he managed to choke out the question, "Daniel?"

"Jack. Are you OK?" A wet hand reached out, squeezed his shoulder, but Jack pulled away.

"Daniel? Why are you here? _How_ are you here?"

Daniel frowned. "Um, I stayed the night last night. Jack, you don't look so good..."

Jack sat down on the toilet, hard. "You're gone, Daniel. You've been gone for a while now. Remember? You left. Radiation. Nasty shit..."

Quickly turning off the water and reaching to grab one of the two large towels off the rod, Daniel stepped out of the shower. Still dripping, he closed the short distance to the toilet to kneel in front of Jack.

"Jack? What do you mean, radiation? I haven't been anywhere. We just got back, Hammond gave the team three days off. We celebrated a little yesterday, but you didn't drink anything _that_ strong..."

Jack just stared at him.

"Well, you didn't! A couple of beers, nothing more. Well, maybe a few too many beers. You tossed and turned most of the night, but I didn't think anything major was wrong! You aren't on any medications I don't know about, are you, Jack?"

"No. I mean, I'm not on any meds. Daniel, how the hell did you get here?"

Daniel reached out again, and this time, Jack didn't have anywhere to pull back to, so he let the hand settle on his shoulder.

"I drove here yesterday morning. We'd finished the post-mission briefing, Sam left for the weekend with her Dad at her brother's place, and Janet and Teal'c came over to watch reruns in the afternoon to de-stress. After that, you and I had dinner. Jack?"

Jack had slowly started to shake his head, with increasing conviction.

"No, Daniel, you haven't had dinner with me in a year or two. You're gone. You left..."

"Where would I go?"

Jack's mouth worked silently, trying to put into words the strangeness of watching over him as he lay dying, then turning into a swirling ball of white light. Nothing came out.

"Jack? Stay with me here..."

Finally, Jack managed to get something out. "What's the date today?"

Daniel didn't quite know what to make of the shaky laughter that greeted his reply, but he waited it out.

"Danny, I think we should both stop by the Mountain and get checked out before we start our three days downtime."

Daniel still looked confused, but as Jack's suggestion sounded like the most rational thing to do at the moment, he nodded. "OK, Jack, but let's get dressed first?"

"Uh, yeah. OK."

Jack's mind was in a total whirl. How could Daniel think that the past few years hadn't happened?

As the men returned to the bedroom, Jack was on autopilot. It wasn't until he reached his closet, finding clothing he hadn't worn in years hanging there, that he turned to see Daniel pulling clothing out of an overnight bag on the far side of the bed.

Daniel had stayed the night not only in the house, but in his bed? That hadn't happened in such a long time...

Jack pulled his favorite shirt out of the closet, checking for the mended tear he knew should be there, but wasn't. They dressed in silence, then headed toward the living room, where Jack stopped dead in his tracks.

The furniture had been rearranged. Or rather, it had not been rearranged... it was exactly the same as he remembered it, from before...

Daniel was looking at him doubtfully. "Jack, I think I should drive."

Jack simply nodded, and they drove to the Cheyenne Mountain facility in silence.

* * *

After running all the tests the doctors could think of on him, both they and Jack had to admit that they were stumped. Everything appeared to be completely normal, but a few years into what he remembered as his past.

He felt like he'd lost his mind. Nothing made any sense, though as much as he was struggling against the feeling, it was somehow right. Everything was somehow OK. He'd talked his way through all that he cared to about the past few years, on tape, and MacKenzie was trying to analyze it, like a hungry little piranha swimming around a bloody carcass but not quite knowing where to start.

Janet was the one who finally put it all together. "Jack, I don't think it was a good idea to mix coming down off of a stressful mission with too much beer and showing Teal'c those Dallas reruns..."

Jack gave her a blank stare.

Daniel couldn't keep from spitting out his coffee.

Jack glanced to Daniel, who by this point was trying vainly to wipe his chin as he attempted to contain his laughter. Still coughing a little, Daniel clued him in. "Ah, Jack? You had one hell of a dream."

"A dream? I _dreamt_ that years went by?" Jack glared from one to the other of them. "That's not possible."

Janet chuckled, patting him on the shoulder. "Well, it resolved season 8 of Dallas."

**Author's Note:**

> (Apologies to the characters of Bobby and Pam Ewing... and any of their fans. *grin* Now, if only I had a nice manip of Daniel in the shower, turning to look over his shoulder and smiling... Mmmmm.)


End file.
